


Warrior Hearts

by JaguarShadow



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, My First Work in This Fandom, POV Multiple, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 12:22:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaguarShadow/pseuds/JaguarShadow
Summary: My interpretation of Inquisitor Adaar finding out the truth about Blackwall, and how their relationship changes. Spoilers.I haven't written anything in a long time, grammar and formatting mistakes may be rampant.





	

Herah stood on one of the many marble balconies at the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. She looked out over the beautiful Orlesian countryside at the sunset, trying to forget the awful posturing of the game she was forced to submit herself to throughout the night as Inquisitor. She longed for her bed back at Skyhold, but Josephine insisted they stay until the festivities at the palace ended.

She was tired of it. The backstabbing, the distrust, the entire nobility was so backwards, it was a wonder Orlais could function as a country at all. Now a man was due for execution, directly due to her actions. She didn’t even know why she had to be involved with this at all. Yet the rest of the country was celebrating, dancing and drinking. Maybe she just didn't understand the politics, being a qunari, even if she was a Tal-Vashoth. She leaned over the balcony, burying her face in her hands. She wouldn't have traded her experience so far as Inquisitor for anything, but she couldn't help feeling the entire thing was pointless.

Thankfully she didn't stay trapped in these thoughts for long. Blackwall's low gentle voice pulled her back to the present. "There are many lords and ladies eager for a chance to dance with the hero of the night." He appeared next to her, touching the small of her back as he wrapped his had around her waist and pulled her close.

"Blackwall," she smiled at him. "I'm sorry we didn't get to have that dance. It's just-”

"Say no more, Lady Adaar. I understand. It's been a hectic night for all of us. Are you alright?"

"I'm just tired," she assured him, the sadness in her eyes broke him. He would have to come clean soon. This wasn't how she deserved to be treated. But not yet. He wanted to enjoy his time with her just a bit longer.

He placed the hand not already in contact with her on her hand, her mark flickering and glowing in the darkening light. He interlaced their fingers. He looked into her eyes, the light from the rapidly setting sun illuminating her grey skin, the blues and purples in the sky making the ones in her eyes stand out even more. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it... The Orlesian sunset? In the army, it became a solace for me. Not as beautiful as you, of course…”

She looked up at him curiously. It made her realize just how little she truly new about him. But then again, how much did he truly know about her? “I hadn't realized you’d been in the Orlesian army.”

He silently scolded himself. He would give himself up without trying at this rate. “It’s not a time I like to remember,” he admitted. “It’s been many long years..." he needed to change the subject. He would tell her, but now was not the time. “The music will still be going for some time," he took a step back, bowing low and holding his hand out to her, "if I might still have this dance."

"I would like that," she agreed, and took his hand, while he spun her to face him and wrapped his arms around her waist. She was taller than him, but she was able to rest her head on his shoulder while he led them. She relaxed and inhaled deeply. Her face buried in his beard, which smelled like Dragonthorn, his breath like ale. The scent had come to excite her. Reminding her of these sweet yet secretive meetings. They had kissed many times before, but she craved more. Blackwall assured her it would be a distraction to their duty. But tonight she needed that distraction. If only for a few hours.

She kissed him and let the music and world around her fade. This was not one of the juvenile, innocent, stolen kisses like they shared in the stable in Skyhold in the wee hours of the morning before everyone else woke up to train. This kiss was different. His hands were exploring her body more freely, sliding up and down her sides, digging his fingers into the cloth of her shirt as he kissed her back hungrily. Maybe it was the alcohol she tasted on his lips and tongue.

Finally, she thought. She let herself get lost in the moment, the warmth of their embrace and the taste of his mouth on hers. She ran her fingers through his hair and beard, down his firm chest. Their sways became less and less timed with the music. She pushed him up against the wall. Someone would surely see them if they came out this door, but she didn't care. She bit his lower lip and sucked it gently while her hands found his belt and started pulling it loose.

He broke the kiss. He always did. She longed for more. She didn't understand why he was so adamant about keeping their relationship professional. She wanted him. And if the throbbing hardness against her leg indicated anything, he wanted her too.

"My lady, never have I wanted someone the way I want you." He caressed her face and shifted his weight, trying to ignore the pleasure and primal need to continue. The idea of hurting her haunted him. "But we cannot do this." He hesitated. "At least, not here," he lied.

Herah frowned. "Blackwall…" her fingers traced over the bulge in his uniform, and she felt a surge of satisfaction when he shuddered, "I want you. Please. Let's just forget protocol and etiquette for one night. You can't tell me the idea doesn't appeal to you."

It was so hard for him to deny her. Every part of him was screaming to grab her, spin her around and pin her against the wall…. Take her and claim her as his own. "It wouldn't be fair to you, Inquisitor."

"Bullshit. Please stop. Just call me Herah tonight."

He shook his head, "I'll treat you with the respect you deserve."

She groaned. "I don't want to be respected," she put her lips up to his ear, whispering, "I want you to fuck me."

She sunk to her knees in front of him, looking up at him eagerly for his response and running her fingers along his waistband. His face was stoic, but he ran his fingers through her hair.  
Maker, she looked so beautiful. His hands found the base of her horns and gripped them as she yanked his tunic upwards and kissed slowly along his waist. Gods did he love the way his fingers felt wrapped around her twisted horns. He grunted and whacked his head against the stone wall behind him as he tried to maintain his composure. A younger him would have taken her the first night they were together alone in her quarters. Dominated her and claimed her. But he changed. He couldn’t go back to the man he was before.

She felt him twitching under her touch. She let out a sigh and her hot breath made him throb, the full thickness of his erection pressing desperately against his clothes, searching for a way out. She wanted to see him. Taste him. She wanted to worship someone else for once instead of being worshipped. She slipped his fingers over his waistband, kissing down slowly, inhaling his musk as her lips touched the tufts of hair surrounding the base of his thickness, drunk from his scent and the desire coursing through her veins.

For a moment, he almost didn’t stop her. One night was all he wanted. He wanted to forget his past for just an evening, and show her how he really felt. But then she felt the pull on her horns as he stood her up in of him. His eyes looked sad, but he only shook his head.

The rejection stung, and she pulled away, ripping her horns away from his hands and turning back towards the balcony. She didn’t want him to see the effect he had on her. “What is it with you, are you broken? How much do I have to throw myself at you?”

He shook his hand and clenched his fist, his fingers aching. He deserved that. Honestly, he tired of the excuses himself. He almost laughed at her remark, and at his own stupidity. “I am a very broken man, yes,” he agreed.

“You should really figure out what the fuck you want then, Blackwall,” she snapped back at him. “It’s not my job to fix you. I’ve been playing the game all night, I don’t need your games too.”

“You’re right,” he nodded, mentally scolding himself for his selfishness and looking at the ground. “You always are. You have enough on your plate tonight to think about without having to worry about my poor judgement.” The words escaped his mouth before he realized what he’d said.  
  
“Poor judgement?” She whipped around on him, her voice grew louder, but she didn’t care. Let them hear, give the palace all the gossip they so badly wanted. “Sleeping with me is poor judgement?!” She shoved his shoulders, and he stumbled backwards, finally looking up at her. “Is that because I’m the Inquisitor, or because I’m qunari?”  
  
Fuck, he thought. Why can’t I just tell her? “My lady, no. Please do not see my shortcomings as a flaw upon yourself. You are the most respectable, amazing…” he took a step forward again and reached out to caress her cheek, but her lip twitched in annoyance and she leaned away from him. Not wanting to feel the full wrath of her horns, he dropped his hand and sighed. Coward. Fucking coward. “Forgive me, Inquisitor. I will take my leave and see what help Cullen needs on our way back to Skyhold.”

And then she was alone on the balcony again. She sighed and slammed her fist on the stone wall where they had stood moments ago. Why does he always run?

She walked to the table, the one set and reserved for her and the Inquisition, and grabbed the bottle of brandy. She poured a generous shot and downed it in one gulp. Then another. And another. The buzz finally hit her and she nearly fell over. Someone else pulled her arm, and she almost flung them away in anger, before she realized it was her best friend, only half her size, steadying her.  
  
“Whoa there, quizzy, take it easy on the drinks, yeah? At least wait ‘til I’ve joined you.” Sera figured out very quickly from her teary-eyed growl she wasn’t in the mood for jokes. Her look darkened. “Who’s pissed you off, eh? Did that Blackwall do this? I saw him go inside just now, looking like a coward, I swear I’ll shoot an arrow right up his arse if he’s upset you.”

“He doesn’t want me.” Herah blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. She was a qunari warrior, why was she so pathetic when it came to Blackwall? 

Sera snickered. “Oh, but he does. I’ve seen the way he looks at you… I know because I look at you the same way. Look, just forget it, for now. Josie says we can head back. Let’s go home.”

Sera agreed to ride back with her on her horse on the way back to Skyhold, both to keep her company and keep her mind off Blackwall, who had insisted on riding farther behind to keep anyone from sneaking up on them. Sera fell asleep against her back during the ride, snoring. Herah was glad she wasn’t alone, just to have contact with someone was comforting.

Herah’s head was pounding and she felt guilty. She wanted to apologize, for what she’d said. She wanted to tell him instead that she loved him, she wanted to belong to him, but she was a warrior. Her instinct for violence and self-preservation was too strong, and he’d made her feel threatened. Inferior.

At the end of the convoy, Blackwall also pined and hoped for a chance to apologize. And for the strength to come clean. To tell her the truth about who he really was. What he had to do. The execution was only a week from now. He promised himself he’d talk to her as soon as they arrived home. He only had a few more days before he had to leave for what he knew would be forever.


End file.
